waltzing off
on a cloud of reverb
crop dusting through summer
the grass sways whispers to our skin
secrets rise like ghosts, and prism in sun
hovering like mist over country morning pond
rapture is the key we tossed into the murky middle

1 thought on “ours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s